


Economic

by tanyart



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Illegal Activities, M/M, Taxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 12:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19745710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: Brother, you ever been arrested for tax evasion?





	Economic

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Of all the problems and fires Drifter has to put out today, it’s the one where he has to call the landlord of the entire Annex.

“Listen, lady, talk to the Vanguard ‘bout this. They’re the ones backing me,” Drifter says, tossing coin after coin into his dishware in irritation.

Miss Landlady ain’t backing down. She sounds like she’s had plenty of these conversations before. “This is a highly inappropriate matter to take up to the Vanguard. It's concerning the number of tenants living with you.”

Drifter fumbles a coin toss. It clinks at the edge of the bowl before flying off. “Hey, hey. I don’t know how much the Vanguard tells you, but I run a business of sorts here. I have hundreds of Guardians coming in and out of my place. Ain’t no one living with me.”

Miss Landlady’s voice is neutral when she says, “I see. Well, then I think it’s important to know you might have a squatter. We recommend you check your security systems.”

Drifter blinks. “Huh? Someone livin’ in my vents?”

“I have reports saying there’s a Hunter who visits often, and stays for days — red cloak, looks to be a Gunslinger with an affinity for hand cannons. Never picks up your bounties.”

Drifter shuts his eyes. “Oh. Him.”

“Him?” the Landlady says. There is the sound of furious tapping in the background, like she’s typing up something at the speed of light. It makes Drifter just as uneasy as hearing the sound of gunfire. “Ah, well. If this Hunter is living with you, there is a matter of all tenants signing the lease, per the agreement and terms of our facilities in the Tower. A matter of security, you see.”

Drifter doesn’t answer for a long time.

The Landlady clears her throat. “Of course, we offer the utmost privacy, but we do need the two of you to come in and sign in person. Otherwise, the Vanguard will be have to be notified.”

Drifter rubs his temples.

* * *

The Landlady peers up at the two of them from her computer. She looks particularly hard a Shin, but to his credit, Shin only takes another polite sip of the office’s complementary jasmine tea. In a dress shirt and a fitted pair of pants, he looks utterly benign. Even boring, if Drifter is willing to ignore Shin’s tendency to look disarmingly charming in the worst of times.

Drifter refrains from slumping in his chair. He’s starting to regret taking the Vanguard up on the lease. No one much bothered him about bureaucratic bullshit when he was slumming it up in his alleyway. Look at him now. In some fancypants office in front of a desk, dressed to make a good impression.

“Taxes?” Shin inquires politely.

“Yes,” says the Landlady, sliding Shin the datapad.

“Kinda hefty, if you ask me.”

“Any spot in the main hub of the Tower is high value.”

Drifter’s completely certain Shin can afford any place he wants, but they’d rehearsed some of this beforehand — Shin’s only gonna play it cool.

“Of course, the co-lease does depend on certain factors,” the Landlady continues, tapping once again on her computer. She glances at them. “What’s the relationship between you two? Roommates?”

“Ah,” Shin begins, looking sidelong at Drifter for a cue.

“Blood relatives?”

“No.” Drifter blinks. He glances at one of the several tablets in front of them, pages and pages of terms and conditions. ‘Course he’s read all of it beforehand, just so he can find a loophole. A terrible idea occurs. The word escapes his mouth before he can stop himself, “Spouse.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Shin quietly spitting his tea back into his cup. 

So much for playing it cool. Shin’s face turns so red Drifter thinks he might burst into flame on the spot.

The Landlady starts typing away, unbothered. “Is there official documentation?”

“Eh, no. Not yet. Got hitched off-planet. Haven’t had the time to get it all stamped out. You know how it goes.”

The Landlady looks at them. Him and Shin are sitting about half a meter apart which, Drifter guesses, might be sort of on the frosty side of things for two newlyweds. Luckily, the Landlady doesn’t seem to care for anything other than getting her paperwork done, and Drifter hasn’t particularly been the easiest tenant until he had finally convinced Shin to tag along.

“Since there isn’t a certificate, is there any other form of marriage verification?”

Both Drifter and Shin stare at her with blank looks.

“A cloak exchange? Bonds? Rings?” she suggests helpfully.

Shin does a funny little swaying motion in his chair. “He’s, uh, made a gun to specifically kill me. Does that count?”

Drifter transmats Malfeasance in his hand and waggles it. The red string around the handle jingles. The color on Shin’s cheeks bloom again, a near perfect match. 

The landlady jots something down on a tablet. “That’s perfect.” She pauses, and dutifully compliments, “How sweet.”

Drifter grunts. He’s been right all along; Guardian culture will be the City’s downfall. If not from dwindling fighting power, then from financial fraudulent fuckery. Like side-stepping a whole tax bracket by fake marrying your _enemy-turned-several-night-stand_.

Shin still seems stricken by it all. He hasn’t touched his tea for several minutes. Drifter reaches over and carefully pulls the cup from his slack hand, setting it back on the table.

And finally, _finally_ , the Landlady hands Shin a fresh new tablet to sign. 

Shin, Drifter notices, only signs his given name. 

And of course the Landlady has to ask the follow up question; “You have a last name?”

Surprisingly, Shin seems to have a ready answer, “Malphur.”

 _The truth_. Drifter looks at Shin, doing his best to convey with his eyes, _‘what the fuck? hello?’_ , but Shin shrugs then adds, more for Drifter’s benefit than the Landlady’s, “You know, like the Golden Gunslinger from the legends.”

“I’m not familiar,” says the Landlady, not looking up from her screen as she types. “Would you spell it for me?”

“Huh,” says Shin, surprised, but obliges her with the proper spelling.

“Alright,” says the Landlady, once Drifter signs as well — _Drifter Malphur_ , utterly bonkers — and next to him, even Shin stares at the name and shuts his eyes in disbelief. “The paperwork’s been processed. You two are all set. Thanks for coming by.”

And then it’s done and over. Drifter pulls Shin up from his chair and drags him outta there.

**Author's Note:**

> [❤️](https://twitter.com/yan_snn_02/status/1150142718221246464) \- Thank you, Yan!


End file.
